


january rain

by Bekka911



Series: play me a lullaby [2]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Good Brother Ben Hargreeves, Good Brother Diego Hargreeves, Good Brother Number Five | The Boy (Umbrella Academy), Hurt/Comfort, I love my sibling squad, Klaus Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Literally just everyone being Good Siblings, Sick Character, Sick Fic, Sick Klaus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-12-21 01:46:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21066743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bekka911/pseuds/Bekka911
Summary: He can’t breathe, and his skin is going to melt off, and hecan’t breathe. He’s going to die in his room, and nobody will see except Ben and Klaus is so very, very scared of dying.(The one where Klaus is going through withdrawal, and Five, Ben and Diego are good brothers)





	january rain

**Author's Note:**

> aw shit, here we go again. i just love writing Good Bro content, sue me. let me know what you think!

Klaus wakes up with itchy skin and a dry throat.

Ben is hovering over him, saying something, but Klaus can’t hear him properly. His ears are ringing, and his head is stuffed full of soggy cotton, and he _hurts_. He makes a small croaky sound and rolls over, burrowing his head into the pillow. The hot suffocation doesn’t make him feel better, but at least he won’t have to look at the frown on Ben’s face.

It feels like tiny ants made of fire are crawling through his veins, and his skin is stretched too tight over his bones, and his mouth is made of dry wood. His head is swimming, and his thoughts blend together in a weird haze of tired, sick, and pain.

He feels the tell-tale chill of Ben trying to touch him, and reluctantly rolls back over so he can face his ghostly brother. “I’m okay,” he groans, and Ben raises an eyebrow. 

“Klaus, you’re sick.”

“No, I’m sober,” Klaus corrects, and squeezes his eyes shut as lightning spears though his temple. “And it hurts like a bitch.” He feels like he’s spinning in space. His body is heavy and yet weightless at the same time. It’s like being high except so much worse.

Ben hovers anxiously, his hands grasping uselessly at air. Klaus would shoo him away if he thought he could move his arms. Instead, he wriggles lamely, trying to escape the cocoon of blankets he’d gotten stuck in during the night. It’s hot, _he’s_ hot, but it isn’t the good kind of heat. Klaus thinks his skin might melt off.

He slowly kicks and struggles, worming his way up the bed until he’s free of the blankets. Ben makes a small sound of amusement, but it cuts off as Klaus starts coughing. “Klaus?” Ben’s eyes go wide as the coughing turns into a hacking wheeze. “Hey buddy, take it easy.”

“Hot,” Klaus complains, falling back against the pillows. His breaths are still too harsh and shallow. His chest hurts.

Ben’s face twists in concern. “Klaus,” he says gently. “You’re shivering.”

Oh. 

“I think I’m sick,” Klaus announces, holding a hand up and staring at it. It’s shaking. _He’s_ shaking. It’s strange. Usually he only shakes when he’s taken a dangerous amount of drugs. Is he on drugs? Is that what this is? “Benny, I’ve decided that drugs are bad.”

Ben rolls his eyes fondly. “Why are drugs bad, Klaus?” He asks, reluctantly amused.

Klaus doesn’t quite understand the question. Why wouldn’t he think the drugs are bad? If they make him feel like this, they must be terrible. “Cause this is the worst trip I’ve been on.”

Ben seems to stutter to a halt, his form glowing just faintly blue and then _flickering_. Klaus reaches for him in panic. Ben reaches back, only to have his hand disappear through Klaus’s skin. Klaus laughs in delight, lips pulling into a hysterically amused grin. He lifts his own hand and thrusts it at Ben, watching expectantly as Ben holds out a finger and pokes through Klaus’s skin. 

Maybe the drugs aren’t that bad, not if they let Ben dip beneath his skin. Klaus doesn’t understand that either. Ben is alive, just like Klaus is alive, so how can Ben just go _through_ him? In Klaus’s experience, only ghosts can do that, and Ben isn’t a ghost.

He groans as his stomach roils, and Ben abruptly stops allowing Klaus to amuse himself with the strangeness of someone going _through_ his skin. “Klaus?” He says worriedly.

Klaus waves him off, clutching at his abdomen and scrunching his eyes up. He can feel his heart thumping in his chest, and it’s too quick. He’s going to throw up, but he doesn’t think he can leave bed, and he stubbornly refuses to throw up on his sheets. That’s disgusting.

“These are really shitty drugs,” he manages, pulling his arms back to his body. “And I’m cold.”

“Klaus,” Ben says, and Klaus’s hands glow blue and suddenly Ben is _there_. Klaus reaches for him and pouts when his finger meets solid flesh. The drugs must be wearing off and now Ben is back to normal. “Klaus, hey. You gotta get someone, okay? You think you can do that?” He would do it himself, but he isn’t sure how long Klaus can keep him corporeal in his...state.

Klaus throws his arm over his eyes and shakes his head, curling in himself as chills dance over his skin. He feels like he’s encased in ice, but it hasn’t reached his core, and he’s still hot inside. He makes a small noise of protest when Ben’s hands brush over his face. “No.”

Ben sighs, and his hands pull away, and Klaus hums in appreciation. “Klaus,” Ben says again, and this time he sounds insistent. It’s kind of annoying. Klaus flips him off. “_Klaus_. Your fever is spiking. Go get someone.”

Klaus shakes his head, rolling over so his back is to his brother. “I’m fine.”

_“Diego!”_ Ben roars, and Klaus startles violently, jolting uncomfortably and crying out as his sore muscles protest. Ben immediately drops to his knees by the bed and hushes his brother. “Sorry,” he says quietly. “But you need help.”

“I’m _fine_,” Klaus insists again, and backs up his point by rolling off the bed and digging his nails into the floor as he scrambles across the hard wooden floor to the bathroom. He makes it to the toilet bowl just as his stomach heaves and he throws up, tears stinging the corners of his eyes.

It’s like gargling molten lava. It’s like swallowing a lit cigarette. It’s like eating a hot chip that hadn’t cooled down, or sculling a hot coffee. It’s _hot_. Klaus sobs around his retching, feeling strangely vulnerable and pathetic. 

He’s always hated throwing up. He used to do it so often after coming back from the mausoleum. Ben would hover, like he’s hovering now, but Klaus would just hug the toilet bowl for hours until exhaustion dragged him into unconsciousness. Grace would never come to soothe him, and Reginald never hesitated before throwing him into the darkness and leaving him for the ghosts.

Klaus screws his eyes shut and tries to ignore the way his head is pounding. If Ben is alive, why does Klaus remember them _both_ being locked in the mausoleum? Why would Reginald lock them both in?

A hand touches his back and he jumps, whining slightly as the movement pulls on all the wrong muscles. His stomach tightens and he retches again, coughing up nothing. 

“Sorry,” Diego says, and Klaus falls back into his brother. He’s so tired, and he’s wracked with shivers that make his bones hurt. “Hey buddy. Okay. You’re alright, aren’t you?”

Ben says something quietly, and Klaus feels betrayed. Nobody else was supposed to know about the drugs. Why was Ben giving him away? They could have pretended Klaus was sick. Now he’ll have to face the disapproval of his siblings.

“You sure he isn’t just high?” Luther’s voice is deep and irritable. They must have been talking about something _important_. 

Klaus makes a noise of protest. Even if Ben has given him up, he can still plead ignorance. He’d rather _die_ than admit he’s high. “No,” he groans, and Diego brushes a soothing hand over his forehead. For some reason, his hand is colder than Ben’s had been and Klaus chases the contact.

“For Christ’s sake, Luther,” someone snaps. Five, maybe? It sounds like Five. “He isn’t _high_. Look at him! Ben says he has a fever, and we’ve been monitoring him closely enough to know he hasn’t been high for _days_. It’s clearly withdrawal, and if you’re going to be a dick about it then _leave_.”

Klaus snorts weakly. Yup, definitely Five.

Diego pulls him up to his feet, and he whimpers slightly as the burn from his throat spreads to his whole body. It’s an odd feeling, being hot and cold at the same time. “It’s okay,” Diego soothes as Klaus stumbles and cries out. “Look, Five is gonna get you some medicine and I’m going to sit with you until your fever breaks. Okay?”

“I’m not sick,” Klaus grumbles, and then promptly collapses limply in Diego’s arms.

Diego huffs, easily swinging Klaus up off the ground. “Yeah, alright.”

Klaus gets deposited gently on his bed, Ben ducking through their gathered siblings so he can sit down by Klaus’s waist. He’s not corporeal anymore, but he’s visible, and so Diego moves up near Klaus’s head and runs gentle fingers through the sweaty curls.

Klaus sighs and settles in, welcoming the innocent touches as waves of heat and pain crash through him. Diego is saying something about the worst of the fever setting in, and there’s a cacophony of voices, and then a symphony of static invades and Klaus detaches from what’s happening.

It’s nice, he thinks vaguely, being unaware. This is what drugs used to be like for him - still and quiet rather than loud and passionate and intense. Somewhere in the real world, cool hands touch his face and a worried voice calls his name. Klaus chooses to stay with the soothing floaty feeling. Man he misses being high.

He might have stayed there forever, but a pill is being forced into his mouth and suddenly all he can think of is that party two years ago where he’d been forced to swallow something and then he hadn’t woken up again for nearly two days and-

_No no no no no-_

He snaps back to himself with a short, sharp scream, knocking away the arms around him and backing away. His body _throbs_, and he bites own on his lip as the world dips and spins. He spits the pill out, dropping his chin down until it touches his chest.

Someone curses, and then there’s a chill on his arm as Ben’s hand sinks through his skin. Huh, the adrenaline rush must have kicked the drugs back into action. Klaus almost wants to shake him off, but Ben looks so guilty and worried that he finds he kind of can’t. 

“Five’s just giving you some medicine, Klaus,” Ben says and Klaus doesn’t think he’s ever heard his brother’s voice sound so gentle. His skin prickles. “You’re safe, okay?”

Klaus groans, and the world tilts. “I told you drugs are bad, Benny boy,” he slurs, and Ben pulls away. Chills dig into Klaus’s entire body and he shudders. “Taking more will just kill me. I might bounce back, but it’s not a fun time.”

“_More_?” Diego repeats sharply, and Klaus grins sharply at the Diego-coloured blob near him. 

Ben makes a distressed noise. “He isn’t high,” he says. “Trust me. Please. I just...I don’t know what’s going through his head, but I _promise_ you he isn’t high.”

Klaus frowns down at his hands. He isn’t high? Then why does his skin tingle? Why can’t he hear the ghosts? Why is his soul so far away from his body? Why, why, _why_?

There’s an impatient huff, and Ben is swept aside. Klaus stares blearily at the short figure. Ah, Five. “I don’t care one way or the other,” Number Five snaps, reaching for Klaus’s face. He isn’t deterred when Klaus flinches away, whining in fearful protest. “It’s not anything bad, Klaus. It’s for your fever. You really think I’d hurt you like that?”

The question gives Klaus pause, because he really didn’t think Five would hurt him. It’s strange, because Klaus doesn’t like to trust his siblings. Love them? Of course, Klaus adores them more than life. But trusting them is a different matter, a hurdle Klaus has never managed to clear. 

He trusts Five, he decides, and holds out his hand for the medication.

He swallows the small pill without another second’s hesitation, blinking rapidly as his body tries to revolt tiredly. Hands guide him back down, so he’s laying amongst comfortable blankets, and he grabs for them when they start to pull away. He wants the affection for just a little longer. He doesn’t get enough of it anymore.

Diego grips Klaus’s hand tightly. “Okay, brother,” he whispers, his weight settling back on the bed. “Okay.”

Klaus falls asleep.

.

Klaus wakes up with a sore throat and a headache.

Diego had stayed the whole time, sitting with his hand clutching Klaus’s and his eyes closed. Five was reading by the door, and Ben was lying in the small space between Klaus and the wall. The others weren’t anywhere to be seen, but noise filtered down the hallway so he figured they’d be in the kitchen or something. 

“Hey,” he rasped as loudly as he could, spying the glass of water on the nightstand, just out of reach. “Hey, Diego-”

“Don’t wake him up.” Five’s voice is soft, and Klaus looks over to his brother. Five simply turns a page of his book. His lips are twisted into a small smile. He glances up and meets Klaus’s eyes. “He’s exhausted. He stayed with you throughout the day. We couldn’t get him to let go.”

Oh. Klaus returns his attention to Diego, feeling something warm unfurl in his chest. Diego had stayed. Five had stayed. _Ben_ had stayed. Klaus settles back down, and Ben puffs out a gentle laugh behind him.

“Thanks Five,” Klaus murmurs, closing his eyes again and feeling Ben shift a little closer.

There’s the sound of a page turning. “Go to sleep. We’ll still be here when you wake up.”


End file.
